


The Music and the Mirror

by lupwned



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/F, It's something a bit different but still very "them"
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-08-14 18:40:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8024797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lupwned/pseuds/lupwned
Summary: Erin watches with fervor and adoration that she has seldom felt before. With her back arching, hips twisting, arms outstretched, Jillian dances exquisitely. Each movement is expertly crafted. Erin is mesmerized, watching each muscle flex and contract on her colleague's shoulders as Jillian dips. When Erin finally tears her eyes away, she realizes her hands are shaking. With this Jillian Holtzmann in her life, she doesn't think they'll ever steady again.





	1. Chapter 1

The lights of the marquee shine bright outside the Shoenfeld Theatre on W 45th Street. Erin pulls her winter coat closer to her body, an icy winter breeze cutting through her despite her wool sweater, scarf, gloves and earmuffs. She exhales slowly and watches with a little smile as a puff of hot breath appears in front of her and stands out amongst the freezing December air. Nightly, she watches the twinkling red and yellow bulbs, accenting the show title and featured players. She’s worked hard to get here, still come out swinging amongst the botched auditions and lost parts and the “we’ll keep trying” phone calls from her agent. 650 performances later and she’s still in love, still tries to make every performance fresh and vibrant and exciting. Sure, there are some days where autopilot kicks in, but Erin generally loves her job and looks forward to seeing her cast mates and crew 8 shows a week.

Erin walks down the alleyway and into the theater stagedoor, welcomed by the smiles and greetings of their tech team setting up for the night’s performance. She signs in at the front of the theater, scribbling her barely legible signature, before making her way toward the fourth floor. Trying to warm herself up, she gallops up several flights of stairs toward her dressing room, still wearing many layers of winter gear. By the time she approaches the top, she’s sweating, which would normally be uncomfortable, but on this frigid winter day, she’ll take what she can get.

“Hey girl,” a booming voice calls from across the way. Rounding the corner, Erin shuffles toward her dressing room – marked with her name and a variety of decorations she’s amassed over the course of the run. She waves a gloved hand at the woman greeting her - Patty Tolan, their production stage manager and basically the glue that keeps the production together. Her intimidating and commanding demeanor keeps the entire cast in line, yet deep down they all know she’s a total sweetheart who loves each dancer and actor as much as they love her. Today, Patty’s dressed in dark slacks, a black long-sleeved blouse with a deep red vest, and, of course, tucked over her head and onto her ear, her signature headset. She’s typically dressed in stage blacks, but Patty, as always, adds her own little flair, a custom made broach she’d purchased from a street artist in Brooklyn pinned to her chest.

“Hey Patty,” Erin greets before opening the door to her dressing room. The light flickers for a moment before coming to life with a buzz, the long, square halogen lights illuminating the small space. She moves toward her makeup table and sets her purse down onto the floor, then carefully begins to remove her winter gear. Carefully, she hangs each item on corresponding hooks she had custom installed; the house staff wasn’t particularly pleased after learning about her little construction project, but Patty let it slide – “just this once”, she warned.

It takes Erin a few minutes to de-winter herself, but once she’s successfully undressed, she begins changing into her bright red leotard and corresponding dress. It doesn’t take long before she’s fully dressed – her tan dance shoes the accenting point – so she takes a few minutes to sit and relax before warm ups.

Erin sighs. Despite her adoration for her job, even she has to admit that the last few months have been difficult to say the least. They’ve been open for quite some time now, and the casts are beginning to change. Erin can’t imagine leaving this show, this family that she’s grown so close to, but others don’t quite feel that way; they’re ready to do something new, they say. They promise they’ll stay in touch, promise they’ll come to see each other’s shows, but slowly, their relationships fade away and new cast members come to take their place. She looks over toward the other side of her dressing room, which sits empty and bare, a stark contrast to hers, decorated with pictures of family and friends, of opening night reviews and fan letters handed to her at the stagedoor. Jennifer Lynch had been the best understudy – and friend – she’d had in show business in quite some time, and she can’t help but feel a bit angry at the woman’s sudden departure.

Suddenly, someone enters the dressing room in a rush, several bags in hand. Erin can only see a whirlwind of long, blonde, curly hair, unable to focus on anything else as the person invading her space bounces back out of the room for yet another piece of luggage.

“Um, excuse me,” Erin says as politely as she can, but her tone comes off slightly perturbed. “Can I help you?”

The uninvited guest halts on her heels, dropping her suitcase to the floor before reaching out toward Erin with a soft handshake. “Hiya, roomie!” she greets cheerily, her smile wide and accented with two deep dimples.

“Roomie?” Erin shakes the woman’s hand cautiously.

“I’m Holtzmann!” The woman pushes her thick, black-rimmed glasses up further on her nose with her free hand and shuffles back and forth on her feet. “Jillian Holtzmann. I’m the Bebe replacement and, I guess, your understudy!”

Erin says nothing, instead eyeing this _Jillian Holtzmann_ up and down, slowly. She’s wearing tight, dark leggings and a red and black flannel button up. Her hair is pulled up in a messy ponytail and her short fingernails are painted deep violet. Her initial vibe comes off as quirky and weird, a little messy, and Erin wrinkles her nose. If this is her understudy, Erin thinks to herself, she must be one hell of an actor, because they couldn’t appear to be more opposite if they tried. “Understudy, huh…” Erin eventually says, turning her back to Jillian, who resumes her grand entrance of boxes and bags.

“Understudy rehearsal isn’t until tomorrow,” Holtzmann says, a bit muffled by the stack of boxes she’s balancing in her arms against her face, chest and shoulders. “But I figured, the early bird gets the worm or the solo or whatever the hell we wanna say here in the theatre world.” Jillian laughs; Erin does not.

“This is your 15 minute call. Your 15 minute call.” Patty’s voice booms overhead through the speaker system interspersed throughout the theater. Holtzmann looks up at it and grins; Erin, in turn, pinches the bridge of her nose and grumbles.

“I didn’t even get to warm up,” she complains under her breath, grabbing her water bottle and making her way toward the staircase.

“Break a leg!” Holtzmann calls from the room.

Erin rolls her eyes so hard she’s certain they’ll pop out of her head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I typically don't write AU's, but I saw a Holtzbert Musical Theatre Moodboard on Tumblr (http://nicole-so-haught.tumblr.com/post/150240613070/holtzbert-musical-au-moodboard-requested-by-anon) and as someone who is obsessed with both Holtzbert and Musical Theatre, I could NOT RESIST. 
> 
> Kudos and comments make the author very happy and inspire her :) 10 points to who can guess what show they're in ;)


	2. Chapter 2

“She just showed up in my dressing room. No warning, no heads up, nothing!” Erin rests her elbow on the bar. Grumbling, she mixes her Manhattan with a cocktail stirrer and watches the little cyclone forming in the center of her glass. “I mean, almost two years with a show, you’d think they’d have the common courtesy to tell you when your new understudy starts. I knew they were looking for Jennifer’s replacement but…” She sighs heavily through her nose.

Abby shakes her head and laughs. “That’s show business, kid. You of all people should know that.” She finishes the last of her beer and sets the bottle down with a loud “ _clang_ ”, signaling toward Joe, their bartender, for another. “I’d heard mumblings behind the scenes. I just assumed you knew.” Abby shrugs.

“Oh, and another thing. She just waltzes right in and, get this-” Erin shifts slightly on the bar stool toward her colleague and raises her hands. “She comes right in and says ‘ _hiya_!’ Like we’re goddamned _besties_ or something.”

“Wow, how _dare_ she!” Abby mocks.

Erin stumbles over her words for a moment before shutting her mouth and grumbling into her drink. “I just don’t like her.”

Like a seasoned actress making her cue, Jillian steps through the front door, alone, still dressed in her leggings and button up. However, her wavy blonde hair is pulled up in a messy bun with a few strands draped across her cheeks, accenting her dimpled smile. Despite the casualwear, she looks gorgeous.

Erin wants to punch her.

“Of fucking _course_ ,” Erin sighs, exasperated, as her new understudy sashays through the crowd toward the other side of the bar. She doesn’t appear to see Erin, but Erin assuredly sees her. “Is she even old enough to drink? I’ll order her a welcome-to-the-show juice box.”

Abby snorts. “You’re cruel.”

Erin’s not sure why, but she can’t seem to take her eyes off of the petite actress. Intently, she watches the way Jillian makes small talk with the bartender, flashing a toothy smile and laughing at Joe’s terrible jokes. A moment later, he returns with a bright red Cosmopolitan and places it in front of Jillian, who thanks him with a tiny nod of her head before carefully sipping from the edge of the glass. Erin watches as Holtzmann looks around the bar, eyeing the different décor plastered across the walls. Unexpectedly, the two look at each other at the same time.

Jillian grins and waves, hopping off her chair with drink in hand.

Erin curses under her breath. “ _Shit_ , she saw me. Hide hide hide.” Erin ducks behind Abby, trying to shield herself from the inevitable. She peeks from behind Abby’s shoulder, just enough to see the woman walking toward them.

Erin’s hiding doesn’t seem to go unnoticed by Holtzmann, whose smile falters. Masking her emotions like a seasoned actress, she gulps down the remainder of her Cosmopolitan and leaves her empty glass on the bar. Hastily, she throws a $10 bill toward the bartender, the smile she flashes at him a little broken, and rushes out of the place altogether.

Erin chews on her lip before taking a long drink. “Thank God,” she comments a few seconds later, but she doesn’t exactly feel better; in fact, she feels significantly worse.

“You’re an asshole,” Abby comments between sips of beer. “She’s just trying to be friendly. She barely knows anyone here and you’re who she’s going to be with the most for now.” Abby’s giving her that look now, that stern, motherly look that Erin loathes. “Cut her some slack.”

Erin looks inside her glass, almost empty except for a final sip of red liquid. She swishes it around a bit, watching her warped reflection in the center. No one made it easy for her, Erin reminds herself. Bouncing from show to show, stuck in the ensemble, replacing original cast members to the dismay of the remaining cast. She knows what it’s like to have all eyes staring at her, whispering about her and what she “must have done” to get the role.

“Well shit,” Erin sighs. “I didn’t mean to be-“

“An asshat?”

“I was going to say ‘ _rude_ ’.”

Abby smiles. “Mmm, yeah. I think mine fits better.”

The quick-witted remark Erin’s looking for doesn’t come to her, instead leaving her stewing in her own anger and guilt. Dramatically – yet, always in character for her – she gulps down the last bit of her drink and stands. “I’m heading home. See you tomorrow.”

“Text me when you get home! Try not to crush any other ingénue’s hopes and dreams on your way.”

 _Ingénue_. Erin shakes her head and laughs. She _wishes_.

**-X-X-X-X-**

When Erin dreams that night, it’s of her new understudy, dancing alongside her with fervor and passion. The stage lights are harsh, blinding the two of them from seeing anything but each other. Jillian touches her as they move in tandem, her fingertips brushing across Erin’s shoulder and down her back. There’s something sensual about this dance, but dream-Erin feels at ease, leaning back into the other woman’s embrace. Jillian smiles at her, ethereal in this daydream with her long blonde curls glimmering beneath the floodlights.

When Erin wakes up, she’s shivering.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated :) You all are wonderful. Thank you to everyone reading!!!
> 
> Come chat with me!
> 
> Tumblr: awomanontheverge  
> Twitter: @pattilupwned


	3. Chapter 3

On two show days, Erin likes to arrive at the theater early to listen to music, eat a snack, converse with her castmates and simply relax before the craziness of the day. Despite some very odd and slightly confusing dreams that leave her a little tired, Erin still arrives at her normal time – 10am – and greets the crew at the stagedoor with a signature smile. “Hi, Kevin.” She waves at their head of set crew, who is dumb as a box of nails but an expert at what he does, and an absolute sweetheart to top it all off.

“Hi, Erin.”

She’s halfway up the staircase to her dressing room when she hears Kevin call for her again.

“Hey, Patty told me to tell you to see her if I saw you first.” Kevin blinks a few times. “Wow. That was certainly a tongue twister.”

Erin laughs, continuing her trek up toward the dressing rooms. “Never change, Kevin!” she teases over her shoulder.

Despite feeling a twinge of annoyance from yesterday’s events, Erin’s determined to start afresh and give her all at their upcoming shows. She knows she doesn’t perform as well when she’s in a sour mood, so with a _slightly_ fake smile on her face – she’s not exactly sure who she’s trying to convince, but she smiles anyway - she opens the door to her dressing room and prepares for the busy day ahead.

“Erin, baby, I’ve got a favor to ask!” Patty calls to her before she even has the chance to set her bag down.

“Hmmm?” Erin focuses on unpacking her water, cell phone, computer and other various items, her back to the stage manager lingering in the hallway as she does so.

Patty leans on the doorframe with her arms crossed. “I know it’s a two-show day, but you’re here early and I could really use you for something.”

“Anything for you,” Erin says sweetly, spinning to face Patty. “What is it?”

Patty looks down at the floor and scratches her head before speaking, which Erin has learned is rarely a good sign. It usually means the stage management team needs her to stay late for a brush-up rehearsal, or do some type of mundane publicity for the show, or, or, _or_ ….whatever it is, it isn’t going to be pleasant, but Erin’s intent on keeping the promise to herself that she will not be a grump. Not _today_.

“I need you to sit in on the understudy rehearsal today. Be around if Jillian needs any help learning the role.” Patty bats her eyelashes and clasps her hands in a beggar’s pose. “ _Pleeeeeease._ ”

Always one for the dramatic, Erin huffs loudly and leans on her dressing room table. “You know the Equity rules say I don’t have to. That if I do it, I’m doing it out of the _kindness_ of my own heart.” She squints her eyes at Patty, who in turn rolls hers. “What’s in it for me?”

“I won’t smack you in the head is what’s in it for you.”

Erin laughs. “Alright, your charm has persuaded me. But you owe me.”

Patty smiles and gives her a quick pat on the shoulder before stepping into the hallway.

“I mean it! Big favor! Coffee every morning and chocolates before each show!” Erin waves exaggeratedly.

“Mmhm, ok baby, I’ll get right on that!”

It doesn’t take long before Patty’s out of view. As soon as she is, Erin lets out a genuine sigh of frustration, allowing her smile to falter for just a second, before grabbing her cell phone and bottled water to make her way downstairs to the rehearsal room.

**-X-X-X-X-**

When Erin arrives, Jillian is already working with their head choreographer, David. He holds her hands in his, guiding her through the movements with additional verbal instructions. Her footing is a little uneven, but Jillian wears a smile proudly as each spin, turn and kick becomes more precise. Confidence simply radiates off of her, and the whole team of actors and dancers seems to be in an unusually bubbly mood as a trickledown effect.

Erin scowls.

Quietly, she sneaks into the back of the room to watch, making sure she has a line of sight without being distracting to the rest of the team.

“Carla, can we pickup right before Cassie’s dance?” David calls toward the pianist at the other corner of the room, who, with a nod, begins to play the sheet music to the character’s 11 o’clock number.

Erin holds her breath, waiting for the beat to hit that sends her character, Cassie, into a frenzy, a whirlwind of dance and movement and passion that she can’t help but feel connected to on a personal level. And now, she has to share it with this _Jillian Holtzmann_ , who barely seems old enough to understand the pain and the bitterness behind the song. Erin picks at a loose piece of skin on her index finger before looking back up to watch Holtzmann as she begins.

On a strong beat, Jillian takes off, gliding to the center of the room. She stomps then arches her right foot, her spine straight and her arms outstretched to her sides. A moment later, she does the same with her left foot, then launches into a series of dizzying spins.

Erin wants nothing more than to criticize every little move Jillian makes, but she’s genuinely shocked to find just how talented her understudy is. Her movements are clean and deliberate, so full of passion that the hair on Erin’s arms stands straight. When the music crescendos, Holtzmann launches into a jazz layout that makes Erin’s breath catch in her throat.

Well, _shit._

When the music ends, Holtzmann stands, her arms raised in the air and her back slightly arched. Her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath. It only takes a few beats of silence before the room erupts into applause, cheers and hollering that echo through the rehearsal space. Several chorus members jump to their feet and rush to Jillian, patting her on the shoulder and showering her with compliments.

For once in her life, Erin is speechless. She sits in the corner, frozen, watching the scene unfolding before her.

Jillian sees her. If she hadn’t noticed Erin before, she certainly does now. Jillian thanks a few more dancers around her and tries to push her way through the crowd to make her way toward the back of the room, but by the time she reaches the back row of grey fold-up chairs, Erin is gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos and comments make the author smile :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I couldn't resist. THANK YOU SNL + THEATER GODS.
> 
>  

Hiding from someone you share a 10 by 10 foot dressing room with is a difficult feat, but Erin manages to avoid all contact with Jillian for the rest of the day. She leaves the theater between shows and grabs dinner several blocks over from her usual spots, and when her evening show is over, she sneaks out the side exit and avoids the stagedoor altogether to make sure she doesn’t run into a certain blonde dancer.

Erin knows the entire thing is absolutely ridiculous. She’s 43 years old, not a petulant teenager hiding from an irritating classmate or secret crush. Not that she has a crush on Jillian, because that would be _preposterous_. They’ve only known each other for a few days and Erin barely knows anything about her; the little she _does_ know is that Jillian Holtzmann is irritatingly perky. Undeniably gorgeous, but irritatingly perky none-the-less.

Erin grumbles into her mug of hot tea with lemon and absentmindedly scrolls through her Facebook feed. There’s pictures and videos of her fellow actor friends doing cabaret acts and workshops, and statuses talking excitedly about upcoming auditions. Erin can’t help but feel _slightly_ jealous about all the new things everyone else seems to be doing while she’s two years into the same show. She’s not exactly complaining, but the thought of something new and unknown is way overdue, and Erin supposes that is why her new theatre mate and her immense talent secretly excites her; it’s the first _new_ thing in her life in quite some time.

Without thinking twice, Erin taps on the Facebook search bar and types Jillian’s name in, anxiously awaiting for the results to appear. It only takes a few seconds for Holtzmann’s info to pop up at the top of the list. What immediately strikes Erin is her profile picture, which is a simple image of Jillian and a red-headed woman Erin doesn’t recognize. She’s so used to all her actor friends using posed, Photoshopped headshots as their profile picture that she’s immediately taken by the simplicity of Jillian’s image.

She clicks on the thumbnail for Holtz’s profile and waits for the page to load. Erin can’t see much without being Facebook friends, but she peruses what she’s able to – some of her favorite movies and music, some old statuses from years ago that are still public, and a handful of profile pictures that aren’t hidden behind a specific album. In one, Holtzmann’s made up in smoky black eyeliner and matching mascara with bright red lipstick and a silver-sequined dance outfit; Erin can’t deny that she looks absolutely _stunning_.

And yet, in another picture, Jillian’s completely clean faced, her hair pulled back in a messy bun with a few waves falling across her face. She’s wearing a bright red tank top and sweatpants and is making a goofy face toward the camera, and Erin feels a little jealous that Holtzmann can look so perfect made up in cakey stage makeup or totally fresh faced.

Nosily, Erin clicks on the “About” tab on Holtzmann’s profile to see if she can gather any more information. Most of it appears to be hidden due to their friendship status, but Erin’s able to see a list of recent theaters she’s been involved with. She’s somewhat shocked to see Jillian’s been all over – from Boston to California, to a short stop in Chicago for an 8-week tryout, followed by her new gig here in New York City. Erin had assumed Jillian was a fresh-faced ingénue trying to make it big for the first time, but now she wonders whether they have more in common than she’d initially thought.

Despite her interest, Erin decides not to creep any further, moving her cursor away from the “Family & Relationships” tab to click back to the landing page of Jillian’s profile. She hovers her mouse over the green “Add Friend” button in the right corner of the page, internally battling with herself as to whether it would be appropriate to send the request.

A few seconds later, Erin closes her laptop and sighs.

 

**-X-X-X-X-**

 

Before the Sunday matinee, Patty calls a company meeting. The cast chatters as they file into the empty theater, immediately separating into their various cliques and groups. The ensemble huddles in the far left corner, while the main cast is to the right. Some of the dancers are sprawled across multiple seats with their cell phones in their hands, while others talk loudly like chatty teenagers.

When Erin walks into through the back of the theater, she instinctively goes toward the right side of the theater where she’s used to hanging out with her fellow castmates during Patty’s boring production meetings. She’s about to throw her bag down to claim a seat when she notices someone sitting alone toward the center of the theater. If it were anyone else, she’d probably ignore it, but Erin immediately recognizes the wavy blonde hair of her dressing roommate shimmering underneath the slightly dimmed houselights.

“I heard she was fired for having a total meltdown in the middle of a performance,” a dancer, barely older than twenty-two or twenty-three, half-whispers from a few seats away. The young woman narrows her eyes and shoots Jillian a completely unwarranted dirty look.

For some reason unbeknownst to Erin, the spreading of childish rumors makes her blood boil. She and Jillian are certainly not friends, but Erin’s seen nothing that’s warranted anyone spreading false stories, and so without a second thought, Erin turns on her heels to make her way toward where Jillian sits, isolated in the middle of a sea of red-cushioned seats.

“Ok if I sit here?”

Jillian blinks up at her. The expression on her face is a mixture of excitement and unease, as though Erin’s nice gesture is going to result in a bucket of pig’s blood being poured on her a few seconds later. Shyly, Holtzmann says nothing, opting to tap nervously on the cell phone in her hand.

“I’m sorry,” Erin practically blurts out. “I know I’ve been a real…”

Jillian looks up from her device and smiles coyly at Erin, just _waiting_ for whatever choice of words she’s going to decide to use.

“…jerk but I-“

Jillian interrupts her with a snort and a shake of her head.

“Ok, I’ve been a total asshole,” Erin corrects. “But I don’t want to continue to be, so I am _sorry_. And if you get to know me you’ll find out that saying that isn’t exactly easy for me, but you’re here in a new place with all new people and there’s no reason for me to be a bitch so-“ Erin gasps for breath, suddenly realizing just how much she’s rambling. She also notices how Jillian’s been looking at her now, with a smug little grin and the faintest crevice of a dimple in her cheek.

“Thank you, Erin,” Jillian cuts in with a wave of her hand. “Now sit your ass down and suffer through this meeting like the rest of us.”


End file.
